I have a social life!

Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome back my social life! After an extended absence, featuring several instances of lesson planning on Friday nights and various weeks of going only to work and straight home, I'm pleased to announce that my extroversion has made a long-awaited appearance!

All joking aside, I spent Friday afternoon at the home of a lovely American coworker. She's been inviting me over since August, and we finally got around to it! Mrs. C is married to a Nigerian and has two delightful young boys. It was so wonderful to spend the afternoon and evening in the midst of a family. We had lunch - some delicious Nigerian rice and plantain and chicken - and the boys kept bringing me balloons to blow up for them. It brought me so much rest to talk about adapting to culture and staying in touch with family and making long-term decisions that affect everything.

Saturday morning Jan and I made our way to another friend's home. Their daughter is currently at Wheaton (my alma mater) but spent Christmas visiting her parents, who work for the U.S. Embassy. They made us brunch (Waffles and fruit? Sign me up!) and then we spent a delightful afternoon at their pool, chatting and catching up on everything Wheaton.

It was so refreshing to speak with someone who feels such a deep love for all that Wheaton is, as opposed to some of the disillusioned, jaded Wheaton "survivors" I spent the last year talking with. I share this young woman's appreciation for the ways Wheaton has shaped us as individuals and helped us grow, and it felt something like closure for me to reminisce on my Wheaton experience, reflecting on the positive, instead of the negative. The sunshine and 92 degree weather only sweetened the conversation. (Don't worry, Mom, I wore sunscreen!)

This morning was church, and though Sunday mornings look a lot different than it did in August, what with the absence of an official pastor, I know that God is still present in our continually-changing community.
I give thanks today for the blessing of a church family: people who noted my absence and welcomed me back, people who nodded with understanding when I said that leaving home this time was infinitely more difficult than in August, people who asked eagerly if I will return next fall because they want me to come back. People want me to come back. I am wanted here.
As difficult as it is to leave behind the familiar and come back for another 6 months in this place that is not home, it is easier knowing that my presence is desired, and that people will miss me when I leave (and come June 18, I will leave).

On that note, I have not decided yet if I will return for a second year. Some days I lean one way and some days I lean another. Making an objective decision is impossible--emotions are implicitly involved--so prayer is my method. I am praying that God will reveal His plan to me. You may agree with me in that prayer, but I will ask that you do not pray that I will come home (or, conversely, that I will stay).
I'm serving a holy God in a place that makes me uncomfortable, and I'm finding joy and fulfillment in that obedience. Obedience, then, is my primary objective. If obedience means Nigeria, America, or the Galapagos Islands, I will follow where He leads. Pray, please, that I will be obedient, whatever that means for my future trajectory. Thank you for praying. It is sustaining me in this Hot Season.

What's in a Name?

Forgive the Shakespeare reference in the title, please. I AM a Literature teacher, after all.

There have been 5 babies born at ICS this fall, and I think we're expecting 4 more before the end of the January. It was a group effort, but seriously...I wonder what's in the water?!

Mrs. N, one of the teachers who leads Drama Club with me, had a baby girl last week. This is girl #3, and when I saw the big sister, E, I congratulated her and asked her sister's name. E frowned up at me, arms encircled around my waist, and said, "I don't know yet. Duh."

Okay, so actually, she didn't say "duh," but she might as well have by the tone of her voice.

Sensing a need for some culture-divining and quick, I stopped by the Science Lab to talk with Mr. D, Mr. J, and Mr. L. They were happy to inform me that in Nigerian culture, modeled after the biblical tradition, babies are not named until the 8th day. On the 8th day, a naming ceremony takes place and the child is given names by their parents, grandparents and other important family members. I suddenly understood why my students distinguish between their 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, and sometimes 5th names.

Yesterday was the 8th day and I was so privileged to attend the naming ceremony. The parents and grandmother were decked out in lavish Nigerian dress, big head-ties and all. I felt like they were sharing a secret with me: a piece of culture so foreign to me yet so significant to them.

After an hour of praise & worship African-style, the family distributed small slips of paper with the baby's name printed on it. E (the big sister) was sitting on my lap when the slips reached us. She was so excited to finally read her sister's names. I got really excited, too!

Mrs. N's baby girl is named Ogochukwu Chioma Keren-Happuch Precious Emenike.

The names all mean different things, but the theme is God's goodness and preciousness. Obviously, 2 are Nigerian but Keren-Happuch is Hebrew (it's the name of Job's youngest daughter born after his trial).

After we heard the explanations of the names, E smiled up at me and told me she plans to call her baby sister Keren. I think she'll be outvoted - everyone kept referring to the baby as Chioma after the initial announcement.

Then the most marvelous thing happened. They prayed each name of the child as a blessing over her. It was like the West's baby dedication, but it was all tied up in the significance of the names. I've never seen anything like it and I can't really do it justice but it totally choked me up.



That same evening, a Nigerian friend of ours stopped by. He's been instrumental in furthering my understanding of culture, so I was telling him about the naming ceremony and he taught me how to properly pronounce the Igbo names (i.e. the w in Ogochukwu is silent). I asked him for Nigerian names of my own and he was happy to oblige:

Enemi and Agifa.

These names, pronounced ey-ney-MEE and ah-gee-FAH, each have special significance. Enemi is a true friend or companion. Agifa refers to that which is precious, like a pearl. (I had previously told him that my name is Greek for pearl.)

I'm not going to change my name while I'm home Christmas or anything, but these names are really special to me now. It really helps with the whole cultural-adaptation thing.


For those of you keeping track, we're at T-52 hours and 10 minutes until takeoff. Just sayin'.

Prayer / General Update

For those of you keeping up with the, ahem, "prayer concerns" of my life, I have an update.

5-year-old I has been diagnosed with Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia. Her prognosis is upwards of 90%. She begins chemo tomorrow, and will continue treatment for the next 3 years. Thus, our pastor's family will be leaving Nigeria to be together in South Africa for the first part of her treatment. I'm so glad they'll be united as a family, but selfishly, I'm sad to see them leave Abuja Ark. There are many questions (When? How? Who?) that will be resolved in the next few weeks. Pray for I's parents to have divine wisdom, for their 6-year-old twin girls to have understanding beyond their years, and above all else, for healing for little I.

Secondly, please pray for my flatmate Jan. She was widowed a year and a half ago, and she's still walking through the grieving process. She's been particularly down the past few weeks, and I suspect the upcoming holiday season isn't going to help things. Pray specifically that she is able to spend Christmas with her son. (While I'm gone, she'll be alone.) I'm very unsure of what role I'm supposed to take to support her--all I'm doing now is listening and trying to understand, which feels very futile--so prayer for me to know how to comfort her is also welcome.

Lastly, the next two weeks are going to either fly by or creep very slowly. Whichever the case may be, I need grace to make it to December 12th. This Friday is the Christmas program at school, for which I am the emcee (M.C.?). I'm pretty nervous about appearing in front of everyone, just because I am the new kid on the block...I feel like this is my opportunity to prove to the parents that I deserve to be here educating their kids. Not to put too fine a point on it. :) Somewhere in following week, I have to gather all the information for my visa, pack up my stuff, teach a full week of lessons while maintaining patience and sanity, and try to squeeze out 2 more sets of curriculum so that I don't have to bring work home with me. Then I have to jam 30 hours of travel into a 24-hour day, hopping through 6 cities. Weather permitting. (Speaking of which, I have a 7-hour layover at Heathrow...do I have any readers in London who want to help me pass the time?)

I am so thankful for this chance to be reunited with my WHOLE family (both sides of extended family, too!), get my fill of friends, watch movies with my brother, and generally stock up on some American love for the next 6-month push. I also can't wait to know what it feels like to miss Nigeria. In August, I felt a pull towards this mysterious place, and now that I know all the life that it entails, I can't wait to feel a pull towards familiarity.

Thanks in advance for your prayers. Can't wait to see you!

Prayer Request

This one is urgent and hits close to home for me:

Iona, the 5-year-old daughter of my pastor here in Nigeria, is being medivac'd out of Nigeria tonight; they suspect a serious blood condition. Please pray for her quick and comprehensive healing, for wisdom for the medical team caring for her on the way out of Africa, and that her mother Annabel will get a seat on the same flight. Her father, Ulric, will be staying behind in Nigeria with the twins, Caitlin and Meriel, who are 6.

Yes, Iona is the same little girl I profiled in my previous post about hiking in the bush.

This family has become quite precious to me in the 3 months I've been here. Their hospitality literally welcomed me into the fold at Abuja Ark Church, and their selfless leadership has caused me to conceptualize "church" in a new way. Please join with me in prayer for Iona's complete recovery.

Green Oranges and Other Confessions

I have a couple confessions to make:

1. I didn't write this update over the weekend because I procrastinated too long on my lesson plans and correcting. That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it.

2. My oranges here are green. No, for real. That's not an oversized lime, that's an orange, and it legitimately disturbs me. Oranges are called oranges because they're orange. Come on Nigeria; get with the program.

3. Sometimes I strip God of His omnipotence. Hello, subject change. Yesterday in church, we talked about Psalm 30. The psalmist praises God for delivering him from trouble. The credit for the deliverance is given to God. God is given praise for being, well, God.

And yet, how many times do I say or do things that strip God of the praise He deserves?

Exhibit A: I mentioned that I had a conversation last week with a new neighbor. Part of our exchange went like this:
L: I feel so bad that you have to live with old ladies and go to church all the time.
Me: I don't mind. Really, I don't.
L: Well, do you drink?
Me: Occasionally. Why?
L: Oh, good. Just making sure you're not one of those people who lived in the substance-free dorm at your college.
[Pause here to appreciate the irony.]
Me: Actually, my whole college was substance-free. It's a Christian school.
L: Oh. I knew some crazy girls like that. They were all anti-drinking and 'saving themselves for marriage' or something like that.
[Spoiler Alert: I'm about to deny God.]
Me: Oh. Well, I'm not crazy. I do drink and stuff. It's hard to associate yourself with a particular group of people like evangelical Christians because I'm not, like, extreme like everyone else.

WHAT?! DID YOU JUST HEAR ME?!

Why didn't I take the opportunity to tell him about the incredible, life-changing redemption I have received from Jehovah Mephalti, the Lord my Deliverer? (yep, I Googled it.) Why did I show no hesitation in severing myself from the community of saints I would otherwise call the Body of Christ, the Church? Why did I back down?

My rationale at the time was, Oh I don't want to scare him off. This could turn into a great example of "Relational Christianity."

Ooh, that R. C. gets me every time. I can justify just about any action (or inaction) with Relational Christianity (i.e. I don't want to ram my religion down people's throats; I want to develop a relationship with them so they can see there's something different about me.).
It's a benign concept enough, but I struggle with elevating it above Jesus in importance. Legitimately. Sometimes I take my eyes off Jesus and focus on being relevant and culturally palatable and relational instead of on the one I call Savior.

But that's not the kind of life Jesus called me to live. He's called me to live a life apart: a crazy, radical, that's-not-how-the-rest-of-the-world-works kind of life that points people to Jesus.

And honestly, you guys, it's a struggle for me to keep my finger off Backspace right now, because I'm human, I mess up, I make a mockery of that purpose, and I don't live like I believe any of that stuff I just typed. If you've known me for more than 5 minutes, you know that when I screw up, I go all out. And the last thing Christianity needs is another hypocrite. For all my failings, though, I am never outside the grace of God, and neither are you.

So for all the times I've missed the opportunity, for all the "L conversations" I've had, let me just say this:

I believe it. It's some pretty messed up stuff like human sacrifice and eternity and a God I can't even see, but I believe it. All of it. I believe that if I was the only human left on earth, God still would have loved me enough to send His Son to be the redemption for all my mistakes. I believe that this truth should permeate every level of my existence and that it should grieve me when it does not. I believe that there is a world beyond this one, and when I come to the end of my life, I will be spared an eternity apart from God because of a sacrifice that has already been made, a debt that has already been paid. (Hey, that rhymed.) (English teacher, remember?)

And frankly, my friends, that is why I'm in Nigeria. Because I also believe that God created me, is mindful of me, and cares about what I do with my life. I believe that my purpose is to bring God glory in everything I say and do. Being here is an act of obedience to a God who is bigger than I can imagine and who loves ME, even when I strip him of all his omnipotence.

So actually, yes, I am crazy.

P.S. I tried really hard to leave all the "Christianese" out of this post, but it's hard to undo 22 years of a specific learned vocabulary. If words like sacrifice, debt, deliverance, eternity and omnipotence are confusing to you, give me a chance to tell you what I mean.

Christmas Music in October

While I usually keep to a strict No-Christmas-Music-Until-Thanksgiving policy, I feel it is a greater sacrilege that I'm seeing 95 F in October and missing Fall completely. Besides, I'm on a different continent...I'm playing by different rules here. My current soundtrack is Sara Groves' Christmas album. Don't hate.

I'll post something poignant and introspective later this weekend. Which is not to say I've already written something and am delaying in posting it to build suspense...those are just the standards I'm setting for the post-yet-to-be-written. Let's catch up on a few pieces of news first:

I'm almost legally allowed to work in Nigeria. Almost. The process of converting my visitor's visa to a temporary work permit is really complicated, involving a copy of a copy of a copy of a form that got printed off the internet at some point a long time ago. Anyways, the Nigerian government now holds copies of my passport, vaccination records, teaching contract, and college diploma (!) and we're pretty sure they're going to let me stay. :) But more importantly, they're going to let me travel at Christmas and reenter this beautiful nation to which I'm slowly losing my heart.

I went to the FIFA World Cup U17 match between Brazil and Switzerland tonight. I don't know how Nigeria got the bid, but the tournament is being played at the National Stadium (which is across the street from our compound). The teams are practicing on the American School's practice fields, so FIFA gave them a whole section of VIP tickets for the tournament. The teachers that go to my church invited me to tag along, and I'm not one for turning down a chance to be an annoying sports fan. :)
For my first soccer match, it was pretty cool. Let's just forget about the moment when I realized that U17 means the players are under 17 years of age. Nope, 17 does not mean the number of teams in the league, Mag; way to make the connection. Anyways, so the match wasn't as big of a deal as I thought it was, but I met some new people and made some new friends.

Speaking of which, the friendships are coming--slowly, but they're forming. My counterpart at the American School, M, is in her early thirties and hails from Wisconsin. She has offered to help me plan Literature curriculum and even borrow her lesson plans for next semester; this is a huge relief and another answer to prayer. She's a Green Bay Packer fan and easy to talk to. I'm going over to her apartment after church tomorrow to help her dye her hair. Yep, female bonding at its best. :)

I also got a chance to talk with our new neighbor, L, who just graduated from college on the East Coast in May. He's Nigerian-American, and has returned to Nigeria for a few weeks to visit Rachel's sons. We talked for a while last night over tea and it was just really good to talk to someone my own age with a Boston accent and an understanding of American culture. We commiserated about graduating, moving on with our lives, and living far away from home. It was really encouraging and was exactly what I needed.

For those of you faithfully praying for my health, I appreciate it very much. I can breathe through my nose again, which really is a bigger deal than it needs to be. I've just never been so grateful for my health.



Countdown: In 6 weeks + 24 hours, I'm going to be on a plane home. Get excited.

A REAL Update

Since the last two blogs were about chocolate and a hairdryer, and the 3rd contained the phrase "public urination," I think it's time for a more legitimate update.

Teaching is going okay. Teaching ESL is going really really well. My student, G, is 9 years old, as dark as his Nigerian counterparts, drops his s's when speaking Spanish, and hasn't quite grown into his adult teeth yet. The look on his face when he grasps a concept is something I will carry with me forever. Basically, he's a joy to work with and his parents are SO supportive of his learning English.
I learned this week that they are not only making him read in English every night, but they've begun speaking to him in English at home. From a cultural standpoint, I don't know how I feel about this loss of mother tongue, but from a teacher's perspective, he'll learn English a lot faster if it's all he's speaking and reading.
We've discovered that G can read English very well, but he often doesn't understand what he's saying. So today, we did a lot of sound recognition; instead of showing him a picture of an object and asking him to identify it, I read aloud a word and asked him to verify the Spanish translation.
He's learning school-applicable things: the question words (who, what, where, etc.), days of the week and months of the year, colors, shapes, ordinary objects, and simple phrases (how are you, please, thank you, you're welcome). We also study words united by sounds (cat, bat, fat, mat; an, man, fan, pan). We ended the day by walking around the library, pointing at colors and saying them in English and in Spanish.
To be honest, I'm totally making this up as I go along. I have no idea if this is the best way to teach him. I don't know how to teach a child another language. I don't know if I'm helping or hurting his learning with my methods or approaches. But G was happy today. He was smiling and laughing and told me he likes our lessons. And that's a good sign. I'm just trying to focus on G and not worry about compare myself to dwell on my incredible college roommate who is teaching an ESL class of 30 adults back in Chicago and contemplating a future in that line of work. She could teach him more effectively, I'm sure, but I'm doing my best and that's got to count for something.

Another facet to G's arrival at school is that I've adopted yet another set of cultural expectations. Greetings in Latino culture are completely different from American and Nigerian. I've gotten used to the extensive verbal greetings here in Nigeria, but when I saw G's father after school yesterday, he kissed me on the cheek - a perfectly acceptable greeting in Cuba, but unfamiliar in Nigeria! There were Nigerians around us and I think they were a little perplexed!

In other news, homesickness hit like a wall last weekend. I wasn't feeling well--my body has begun resisting spicy food, which is most inconvenient--and for the first time I allowed myself to dwell on how far I've come, literally. It is disheartening to consider the seven-almost-eight weeks I've been here in light of the 58 days ahead of me.
I remember similar feelings during my first semester of college. When we arrived and moved into the dorm, it felt like summer camp; it took a couple months to realize we weren't going home at the end of the summer. It's the same thing here: I've hit the wall, saying, "Okay, I've had my fun, I've learned about the culture, let's go home now." But I can't go home, and this isn't summer camp, and I'm in this for the long haul. God's not finished with me here yet.
So Saturday I just kind of moped around the flat, looking at photos online, letting myself be miserable. Monday night, however, the other ladies in our compound (Mrs. O and Rachel) came over for a visit and asked me to show them all my pictures. It was therapeutic to tell them about my family members and loved ones.
God is so faithful to have built a support system around me whose prayers reach all the way across the ocean. (By the way, you're a part of that system, too! Your comments and feedback on the blog make me feel connected.)

1 Timothy 4:10 "For to this end we toil and strive, because we have our hope set on the living God, who is the Savior of all people, especially of those who believe."

Alignment

I'm not trying to be pretentious when I say that the past month in Nigeria has changed me. I'm not claiming to be enlightened by a new world-conscious perspective or to have acquired a burden for the broken parts of this world. My paradigm hasn't shifted. I haven't lost my personality.

But I'm different. I've changed somehow.

And the change isn't that I've learned how to speak Nigerian Pidgin English or how to bargain in the market or how to live my life without electricity. It is all that, but it's not.

It's loneliness rooted in the fear that no one may ever perfectly understand me now that I've attached myself to a country in West Africa. It's the fear that I will never leave Nigeria and the fear that I will leave Nigeria.

It's being bothered by how much my life has changed and by how much it hasn't. It's easy to say I've become more dependent on God in Nigeria, but did you know that moving to Africa doesn't fix what was wrong or missing in your relationship with Jesus Christ before you left?

It's the alarming disparity between my calloused heart ignoring the lame beggar in the market and fighting tears while singing worship songs.

It's seeing change in places I didn't expect and not seeing change in the places I counted on.

The change creeps in and the change floods me. I'm over- and underwhelmed at the exact same time. I'm brave and I'm a coward. I love my life and I hate it because I could be--should be--living it better.

I ran headlong and face-first, with arms outstretched, to this place because I didn't see any open doors, or forks in the road, or lights at ends of tunnels. I saw an opportunity and I ran. I ran away from life, I ran towards life.

I am two-faced. I am conflicted. I am living with one foot in this life and one in the past next. I feel like Velcro, willingly rending myself from the US and sticking to Nigeria. But when I tear myself away from here, won't there be ripping and weeping? Won't I be caught between then and now and what's next? Won't I always be homesick for someplace else?

I don't know how to explain the change, but I know this is only the beginning.

When darkness veils His lovely face,
I rest on His unchanging grace.
Through every high and stormy gale,
my anchor holds within the veil...
All other ground is sinking sand.

Continuing Down the Road

As we are rapidly approaching August 21st, I wanted to detail the work that goes into preparing for a trip of this magnitude. If you've spent any time overseas, this process is quite familiar to you, I'm sure, but since I'm a first-timer, the whole ordeal is so overwhelming my head hurts sometimes.

And because I'm just that OCD, I'll break it down for you categorically.

Physically, I've already seen 2 doctors and will have my formal physical tomorrow with doctor number 3. (Make it 4 if you count the travel clinic where I got my yellow fever vaccine.) I'm taking sterile medical supplies, a whole host of natural supplements, and dozens of medications (No, literally, dozens. I wrote out my list for Customs tonight: 3 pages.)

Legally, of course, I've obtained a passport and am still in the process of obtaining my visa. My application should be walked through the Nigerian embassy tomorrow (Thursday) and prayers for unhindered processing and swift approval are greatly appreciated. The reality of this trip still hinges on the approval of the visa.

Mentally, I divide my time between intense concentration on Nigeria and pathetic distraction to keep myself from dwelling on it too deeply. It's an overwhelming feeling: trying to conceive what my life will look like in just a few weeks. A friend from church shared a similar bit of wisdom with me: part of the concern is that you just can't imagine how life will be different once you have made your new home in a foreign land. It is impossible to be completely prepared for what lays ahead.

Financially, I have sacrificed almost my entire personal savings to be ready for this trip. A new wardrobe, food supplies, camping gear, and updated technology are just some of the items I've purchased since starting out down this path. Allow me to clarify that without the financial support of my parents and grandparents, I would be headed to Africa absolutely and devastatingly ill-equipped. My grandparents are giving me the ability to communicate with friends and family back home; I can't attach a value to that gift--it is too great. My other grandparents are relieving me of a huge stressor by storing my car (free of charge) with the meticulous, loving care that defines my grandfather. My parents have sacrificed so much for me to be prepared for whatever lies ahead. When school starts in 3 weeks, I will look the part of a teacher because they've clothed me. I will eat things that remind me of home because they bought food. And I will wake up on time because my alarm clock runs on rechargeable batteries that my brother Jake provided! Moving to Africa is truly a team effort!

Emotionally, I try not to dwell on the loss that awaits me. I acknowledge all the things I will miss while I am away: birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, my little nephew beginning to walk and talk, Jake's first year at Wheaton, and my college roommate's wedding next June. Nothing will prepare me for the crippling separation of my family, and if I can admit that now, I hope to accept it when it happens, even if it catches me off guard.

Spiritually, I am amazed at the presence and provision of Jesus Christ in every turn of this entire process. The timing of this opportunity was orchestrated perfectly, and I continue to trust that as I take steps of obedience, the Lord will align the desires of my heart with His own. I have been equipped for such a time as this, and want only to be used of God in situations I cannot even anticipate. I've also been overwhelmed by the spiritual support of friends and family, and not one but two church families! Prayers for safety, prayers for blessing, prayers for health and wellness have all been prayed over me and for me and I cannot contribute the peace I feel to anything less than these prayers and the saints that pray them.

I speak in faith when I say that my next update will include a positive response from the Nigerian embassy regarding my visa!